


It's the Thought that Counts

by snowbellewells



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 16:14:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21413002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowbellewells/pseuds/snowbellewells
Summary: A CS Modern AU spin on O. Henry's "The Gift of the Magi" /// originally written for the CS Secret Santa 2016 eventWhat does Emma Swan give the best friend who has changed her life?  And what will he give her in return?  Nothing seems good enough...until both are willing to share the thoughts behind their presents.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Emma Swan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	It's the Thought that Counts

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally my CS Secret Santa 2016 gift to @swanandapirate over on Tumblr. It draws a bit from O. Henry’s “The Gift of the Magi”, but it can be enjoyed without knowing that. It’s a modern AU, and Killian and Emma are twenty-something platonic roommates, though both may want more if they ever get up the courage to admit it.

Seventy-seven dollars and forty-eight cents…that was all. Emma blew out a frustrated breath and scrubbed a weary hand over her face, sighing and wondering if maybe she should count again. Surely she had missed some of it; she must have made a mistake. After taking on all those extra shifts at Granny’s, after all of the pinching and scraping she’d done – it still wouldn’t be enough. Seventy-seven dollars and forty-eight cents it was, and that wouldn’t buy the perfect present…the gift she’d decided he had to have.

Not knowing what else to do, Emma Swan shoved the blond strands that had escaped her braid out of her face in exasperation and tucked the bills and assorted coins back into the beat up leather wallet she carried, perusing the people rushing back and forth on the sidewalk in front of the row of shops through the windshield of her VW Bug. She’d parked outside the music store right after getting off her latest shift at the little 24-hour diner, hoping that with the week’s wages Granny had kindly given her a day early and the night’s tips, she would finally be able to get the gift she had earmarked for her best friend.

Though she had been putting back every spare penny for weeks, there hadn’t been very many of them. She was often lucky if ten to twenty dollars every week or so made it in the fund she had begun in September for Killian’s present. On a waitress’ salary (yeah, those big dreams of what she would do with her fancy degree had yet to come to any kind of fruition) rent, utilities, groceries and gas for the Bug were almost more than she could handle, even splitting some of those bills with her best friend for their two bedroom apartment; there simply wasn’t much extra.

Regardless, Killian was special to her, and she wanted him to have the items she’d set her heart on giving him. Wistfully, she rested her arms on the steering wheel and gazed once more at the front of the music shop, admiring again the tooled-leather strap and perfect case, butter soft material all on the inside, the ideal cushion for his beloved instrument, the guitar that had once been his brother Liam’s. Knowing she couldn’t afford the price she had been quoted, despite all her effort, Emma let her mind wander back instead, not yet willing to leave empty-handed, back to the early days when she and Killian had first met.

It had been only her second day at college in Boston; she had forgotten to get a shower curtain for the suite and was running out in a huff to the nearest Target when she had plowed into a guy entering the dorm with a stack of boxes high enough to obscure his view, and knocked both of them off their feet. Rather than bawling her out for not watching where she was going or picking himself up and beating a hasty retreat from the disastrous whirlwind she had been in those days, he’d begun to laugh, helped her up, introduced himself, and they had been best friends ever since. From studying for midterms together for years, to bringing each other meals and keeping one another company in the wee hours at their numerous respective part-time jobs, to prepping each other as they got ready for interviews at their post-college ventures, Killian Jones was the first person in Emma’s life who had always been there for her when she needed him, who would drop anything to come when she called. It had taken him time to break through her reserve and skepticism completely – growing up shuffled through the foster system, abandoned and forgotten, had left her waiting for the same sort of betrayal from anyone in her life. However, as months of barbed comments, testing behavior, and sharp comebacks failed to scare him off or push him away, Emma had begun to let Killian in – to try something new as he urged and trust him – just a little at first, and then more openly than she had ever allowed herself to trust anyone before. Now, she truly could not imagine what her life would be like without her confidante, her partner-in-crime, and her number one supporter. Killian had opened her eyes, made her stop to enjoy, to laugh, to appreciate her days, and at least occasionally…_believe. _The world looked brighter through his vision.

Emma knew she wasn’t the easiest person, and she had wanted for some time to do something for Killian to say thank you in a way more clear than words, which often failed her. She wanted him to know what his friendship had come to mean to her, and give him something he would really love. It was hard for her to fully express how glad she was that he had persisted until he helped her lower the walls around her heart, and when she had finally discovered the perfect gesture – the very thing her dearest friend needed, no_ deserved, _to have, she couldn’t make herself settle for anything else.

Once more, she glanced into the music shop’s large front window. She could see the handcrafted, genuine leather, artistically beautiful guitar case even from where she sat. Of course it was displayed prominently. She knew nothing about instruments or their care and storage; in general, she paid very little attention to music at all, other than to know that the old, traditional shanties Killian’s calloused fingers coaxed from the strings with his gentle touch were the most soothing and peaceful sounds she had ever heard, and his husky, warmly accented voice made shivers run up and down her spine with an intensity that she was hard-pressed to ignore and which made her clench her hands on her thighs not to delve them into his dark, unruly hair and pull him close.

Shaking her head, Emma turned the key in the VW’s ignition, wondering at the disconcerting rush of attraction which swept over her from time-to-time. She didn’t know where it came from or why she couldn’t rid herself of it as she had always been able to with guys before, but she wouldn’t risk anything else; no matter how devastatingly handsome Killian was, not if it meant she could stand to lose the most loving, steadfast person to ever walk into her life. She simply forced herself to ride the moments out when they appeared and kept herself together until the hot yearning subsided and she could look at him and simply see her friend once more. Regretfully clutching the worn-soft steering wheel in her hands, Emma knew she should back out of the parking space; she needed to give up and find something else for Killian that she _could_ afford. She had almost done so, already moved the stick to reverse, when the solution came to her in a blast of inspiration. Her eyes lit up, and her fingers danced over the dashboard, only the tiniest bit of lingering hesitation left. She knew just what to do, but she had to be quick. She had to get back here before closing time. It was a miracle the case and strap had not already been bought as someone else’s gift. Excitement that she had not felt in a very long time thrummed through her veins as Emma told herself she just might manage to give Killian Jones a Christmas gift worthy of him after all.

~~CS~~CS~~CS~~CS~~CS~~CS~~CS~~CS~~

Across town, Killian Jones was pondering similar obstacles as he paced the auto body shop where he and Emma’s friend Graham had helped him find some extra work when he wasn’t pounding the pavement trying to seek an opening in his chosen field. While the opportunities to get a foot in the door at one of the city’s various law firms had proven to be few and far between, he picked up what income he could in the meantime. Occasionally when the place was swamped, he helped Graham in the repairs, and Graham’s friendly boss, an older gentleman named Marco who had been a skilled craftsman in his day but now had hands too arthritic to do any of the actual work himself, had Killian into his office, his keen eyes twinkling as he took in what he called “a sharp young pup’s” financial and legal advice and paid him well for the consultation, even if it was not officially licensed.

Though Killian enjoyed action and doing, a bit of adventure and an honest day’s labor, this help he could be to Marco and others like him – Emma’s old-fashioned diner owning boss whom everyone simply called “Granny” Lucas, when she was stymied by paperwork and tax forms was another – reminded him of why he had chosen law in the first place; nearly broke though he might be from the effort and not yet having been able to right any great wrongs. Six long years have gone by since the accident that took his beloved older brother’s life, and the legal wrangling pulled off by the defendant’s lawyer, keeping the man responsible for Liam’s ship being broadsided and then left stranded in the harbor, taking on water and going down in under ten minutes, her captain’s body having never been found but almost certainly going down with the doomed vessel, from facing anything more than what seemed a mere slap on the wrist for his gross negligence. Killian had been just nineteen at the time, barely into his sophomore year of college, and when all was said and done, he had been left with no settlement, no compensation, no income, and most devastating of all: no anchor. The man who had always been there for him, the only dependable father figure in his life since their sire had walked out one day when Killian was eight and never returned, who had cared for him, looked out for him, made sure he had food to eat, told him stories when they were young and the nights were dark, who had given up his own coat so Killian didn’t go to school without, who had stood in front of his little brother as a shield, both physically when their father lashed out in misguided anger and grief, and emotionally with plausible excuses until Killian had been old enough to understand and bear the truth of their papa’s abandonment; that man was suddenly and irrevocably gone.

Killian hadn’t been able to keep their little apartment or most of their appliances, furniture, and other possessions, such as they had been. Their sale_ had_ allowed him to scrape together enough to stay in school that year. The scholarships, loans, and much hard work, as well as various friends’ kindly lent couches and spare rooms over breaks had allowed him to continue until he had his degree, but his initial bent toward marine biology was no more. In his mind, law was now his own way of seeking justice and retribution for wrongs. He would do all in his power to keep others who had already lost their loved ones from losing everything else as well, the way that he had.

Liam’s battered acoustic guitar was the one thing he had not been able to part with, though it sat propped up in the front seat beside him now. He could remember Liam sitting by the dwindling fire in the hearth, strumming the instrument and clearly finding some sort of immeasurable solace after a long, soul-grinding day of hard physical toil at the docks, the sound of some sailor’s lament in the plucked chords and Liam’s softly off-key voice often lulling him to sleep on his cot in the corner of their cramped but warm dinette room.

Though it appears a bit weathered, Killian knows the instrument is of solid, impressive quality and materials. It had belonged to their mother, who’d had a bit of minor amateur notice as a singer and musician before meeting their father and giving up her craft, and before that, her father’s – once upon a time. Killian had never met this grandfather who was a noted folk singer in Ireland, but his mother had often told him as a boy while sifting gentle fingers through his dark mop of hair that he looked like her “papa” with his dark brows and “eyes blue as the sea”. 

No, he had always been unwilling to sacrifice the instrument, despite the price it might fetch, but now – now things were different. There was someone in his life again; someone he loved and admired with the devotion and fervor his brother had inspired. She needed to know what she meant to him. Yes, as his best friend, but also as the only woman in the world he’d had eyes for since she literally knocked him off his feet on move-in day all those years ago. Liam’s guitar would allow him the ability to give Emma a gift that expressed his true regard, rather than relying on words which she understandably tended to mistrust.

If he could just part with the family keepsake, he would have enough to carry out his Christmas plan. He knew that her bright yellow car, the only remnant of the first relationship she’d ever felt secure or needed within, though it had eventually imploded and nearly destroyed her, was incredibly dear to her. Garish eyesore it might seem to most, but he knew Emma would never part with it. It was a symbol of where she’d come from, who she’d been, and a reminder to her of just how far she had come. He also knew it desperately needed several repairs that she’d had to try to keep the vehicle limping along without for some time. It actually hurt his heart to see how hard Emma worked. Leaving the apartment most mornings before sunrise and often coming home well past supper, dead on her feet from working all day and not much more he could do than feed her the leftovers of whatever he had made that evening and offer to rub her feet as they watched some tv before turning in for the night. If he could give her beloved Bug some of the work it required and make things easier for her, even for just a time, he was determined to do so.

With a firm nod of decision, Killian’s hand closed around the neck of the old guitar and he got out of his truck, almost cradling the instrument one last time. He knew the old man recognized the piece’s fine artistry, and that he would care for the guitar he had expressed interest in buying numerous times before. Killian expected it was meant to be a gift for the man’s son, August, who played in some cover band on the weekends as a hobby. Still, it would at least be used and appreciated, and the sacrifice – once he saw the surprise at her present on his Swan’s face – would be worth it.

~~CS~~CS~~CS~~CS~~CS~~CS~~CS~~CS~~CS~~

That night, Christmas Eve, when Emma and Killian met back at their apartment, both were almost vibrating with excitement to share their gifts, ridiculously anxious for the other to see the fruits of their labor. Emma opened the door at his first gentle rap, a pleased smirk on her face, both at the sweet, unassuming way he knocked so as not to startle her, even though he lived there too and could come right on in, and at the look she imagined seeing on his face soon when he got a look at the case and strap and realized he wouldn’t have to keep his prized possession behind their recliner in the corner of the living room anymore, nor would he have to play the guitar sitting down because he had never gotten himself a strap. Now that she had finally bitten the bullet and made the trade, she didn’t even miss her old clunker of a car that much; what she had gotten in exchange was going to be more than worth it with how happy it would make him. Tiana, her fellow waitress at the diner, was always saying Emma didn’t need the expense of gas and insurance and repairs anyway, what with how close the bus stop was to both Emma’s home and the diner. As usual, the practical, no-nonsense woman had been right, Emma now conceded. This was going to work out, and she had achieved her goal for the last few months as well, instead of having to admit defeat.

Pulling Killian into the apartment with an eager grip on his wrist, Emma led her friend past the kitchen island where they usually gathered to talk over their day and find some supper to eat, gestured for him to sit on the couch, and began speaking in an enthusiastic rush quite unlike her usual reserve. It pinked her cheeks and made him chuckle, finding her utterly adorable and wanting to pull her down onto his lap and wrap her in a hug, hold her close in his arms for as long as she would allow. The impulse only grew when he thought about the little squeal of delight he could almost hear her making when she realized she could drop a few of those extra shifts she was pulling trying to get the Bug new brakes and snow chains for the tires before winter really set in, because it was already taken care of. He could only hope the twinkle in her eyes that never failed to enchant him might appear as well at the realization that she could afford to take a Saturday off, stay in her pajamas all day and drink her beloved hot cocoa and cinnamon curled up in the window seat.

The moment they both settled on the couch, Emma snapped him back to the present, still clutching his hand in both of hers, almost bouncing on the couch cushions. The unbridled delight in her face was almost childlike glee. Though very few people were privy to such displays from her, Killian adored seeing the true depth of Emma’s good heart and boundless affection for those who proved worthy and managed to reach behind her walls. “So, it’s time to exchange our presents for each other, right?” she prodded excitedly. “Wait until you see what I got you!”

He nodded gamely, a chuckle rumbling through his chest despite suddenly feeling almost nervous at what he had gotten in return. Gesturing to her, he offered, “Of course, but why don’t you start, Swan? We’ll have to go elsewhere to fetch at least part of your gift.”

“Ooh…a mystery…I like it!” she intoned playfully, nudging him with her elbow before reaching under their couch to pull out a large, long, rather flat box and laying it across his lap. “But first,” here she gave a little clap, “let’s see what you think of this!”

If he lived a hundred years, Killian would never be quite sure he could forget the way his breath caught in his chest at the sight which greeted him when he tore through the heavy, metallic green and gold wrapping and discovered what Emma had gotten him. There before him was a hand tooled case, a pricey one he’d yearned for more than once through the local music shop’s window and which would be the perfect resting place for Liam’s guitar…if only he hadn’t sold it to pay for Emma’s present. 

Tears pricked his eyes, touched beyond belief even if the present was no longer of any practical use to him. He could only imagine what this must have cost her, and he couldn’t quite fathom how she had procured it, but when he looked up to see her tense, eager face anticipating his reaction, none of that mattered, he only needed to find the words to express the swell of genuine love he felt for her. Reaching forward to clasp her hand now, he brushed his thumb over her skin lightly, making himself speak even if it came out a husky croak, “It’s beautiful, Swan. Truly. I have never seen another its equal.”

She beamed, her eyes lighting up just as he had hoped that they would, and flung her arms around him, hugging him tightly. “Oh, I’m so glad you like it!” she breathed, then pulled back excitedly once more, urging him forward. “Well, go on, get your guitar. I didn’t see it, so I figured you must have put it in your room last night! There’s a strap for it in there too. Let’s see how it looks!”

Killian blinked, stunned in that moment by her beauty and her unselfish joy, and he didn’t want to tell her, didn’t want to ruin her surprise, or perhaps make her feel bad when she had given him something so lovely. Clearing his throat, he tried for playful flirtation with a wink, hoping to put her off, and stalled nervously, “We can do that soon enough. It’s time for your present now I believe, Lass. We’ll need to get the Bug though. Where did you park this evening? I didn’t see it when I came in.”

He had gotten up and started to move toward the door where their coats, hats, and scarves were hung before he realized her reluctance. It wasn’t until he turned, hat on head, to see that she had only followed him a couple of steps, and was now avoiding his eyes, studying the toes of her tennis shoes instead. 

“What is it?” he asked, concern and nerves trickling through him once again. “Emma?”

“We… Well, we can’t, Killian. Okay?” She shook her head and tried to move past him into the kitchen. “Let’s have our Christmas dinner before it gets cold. After, you can play me a couple of songs. I think I’d rather wait to open my gift tomorrow…Christmas morning and all, you know?”

“Wait, what are you on about, Swan?” he pressed, sure now that something was troubling her, and also knowing he could not do what she asked – not when Liam’s beloved treasure was no longer with him.

“The Bug isn’t here,” she finally admitted, so softly he had to lean into her space.

“Did it break down?” he asked gently, not sure what exactly she meant. It wouldn’t be the first time the old Volkswagen had stranded her somewhere and she’d found another way home. “You know Marco will let Graham tow it for us without all the ridiculous upcharges. It’s okay. We’ll eat and then go fetch it.”

She sighed, shoulders slumping as if to admit defeat. “No, that’s not it. It isn’t mine anymore. I sold the Bug.”

“You – you sold it?” he stuttered disbelievingly. She loved that car; had always vowed she wouldn’t part with it until it literally fell to pieces. 

“I had to,” she finally explained, sniffling a bit and still not meeting his gaze. “I couldn’t save up as much as I’d hoped. And you had to have that case. I wanted you to have it so badly. I don’t really need a car. The bus easily takes me everywhere I really go in this city. And I’ll save on gas and auto insurance. I sold it to get your Christmas gift, okay? But it’s fine…really. I just didn’t want to tell you and have you feel bad…” 

She trailed off, and Killian knew he should say something, but once again, she had stolen all the air he needed to speak. He darted forward impulsively, cupping her chin in his palm and tilting her pretty face up to his. He let his thumb caress the little dimple in her chin affectionately, and then he shook his head in awe. “You didn’t have to do that for me, Swan. Your friendship, honestly, is gift enough. But I thank you…truly. Just don’t look like that. It was a beautiful thing you did. I only wish that my gift would be the expression of appreciation I had hoped for...”

Her brow furrowed adorably, finding herself the one confused now, and he wanted to lean forward to kiss the little crease so badly he had to bite his bottom lip to avoid it. “Now you’re the one not making sense,” she accused.

“I bought snow chains for the Bug and a prepaid coupon from Marco to have the brakes replaced as well. It isn’t a very romantic gift, I’m well aware, but I know you’ve been worried about paying for the work before the ice and snow really fly. Now, though…”

She shook her head, reaching up a finger to press to his lips and stop his apologetic confession. “I really appreciate that, Killian. It would have been perfect, and a real relief if the car were still mine to worry over. The thought’s what counts anyway, right? Come on, play me one carol before we eat. Please?”

Gathering his courage, Killian wet his lips and gazed down at her, holding her in his view for as long as possible, wondering how he ever came to be so close to such a perfectly unassuming angel. “I hope you still feel that way in a moment, Love,” he whispered. “I’ll treasure your gift. It’s wonderful I assure you, but I can’t play you a song at present.”

“And why not?” Emma asked, but something about the way tears seemed to instantly well in her eyes, told him she had put the puzzle together at last.

“How do you think I procured your gifts?” he finally asked softly, a wry smile lifting one corner of his lips as he stared down at her.

“Killian…you didn’t…your brother’s guitar? Oh no, I would have never asked you to give that up for me.”

“I know that, Emma. Of course you wouldn’t. But you are the first person who has meant as much to me as Liam did. You’ve brought me back to life in some ways. I wanted to show you how necessary, how vital, you are in my life. Pretty words don’t show what actions can, you’ve taught me that. I was attempting to express my feelings with action.”

She blinked up at him, one solitary tear trekking silently down her cheek even as a wobbly smile bloomed to accompany it. Her voice was nearly breathless when she asked him, hopefully, “What feelings are you talking about, Killian?”

“That I,” he swallowed, words failing him as surely as they often did her in this weighted moment. “That I…. Oh, bloody hell!” He finally gave up speaking and swept her into his arms desperately. His relief and the warmth flooding through him when she responded by opening to him and pulling him close just as tightly were enough to make them both sway on their feet. Their gifts to each other may have been ill-chosen, or perhaps they had been the best gifts possible, finally making what they really wanted from each other clear, but he could only be grateful as he lifted her off her feet and delved deeper into the kiss. Emma hummed happily, warm and welcoming, now sifting her fingers through his hair and sending shivers down his spine. 

“I love you too,” she murmured against his lips, a quiet, secretive little grin on her own.

“Good,” he responded before moving in once more, content to keeping kissing her right on into the New Year.


End file.
